


Drabbles, Vignettes and Interludes

by Hitokiri_Nekohime



Category: Ergo Proxy (Anime), The Big O
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-19 13:13:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11314122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hitokiri_Nekohime/pseuds/Hitokiri_Nekohime
Summary: Brief scenes that rumble around in my brain from my favorite series' and (usually) pairings. I never have enough time or energy to write full on stories anymore...but these are little slices of fandom.





	1. Ergo Proxy

Vincent stood holding a crumpled undershirt in his hands. His face was drawn, the only visible sign of his internal struggle. “You borrowed my shirt, Re-l… You borrowed my shirt and now it smells… it smells like you.,”

Re-l Mayer, once the apathetic princess of Romdo, now his travelling companion about the Rabbit, turned her haughty eyes upon him. “Is that a problem, Vincent Law?”

Vincent’s emerald eyes flashed silver, his voice deepening into that of the Proxy buried within him, his gaze turning hungry. “It will only be a problem if you resist me, when the time comes, Re-l Mayer.”


	2. Rainy Days...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big o fandom. Old AF.

She didn’t care that the rain was pouring down on her. She could barely feel it. She sat primly on the balcony’s ledge, her mouth set in a grim line of disdain. Her eyes were narrowed, as much against the scene before her as the sheets of water impairing her vision. A man and a woman, looking very much the happy couple. The man was attentive without fawning, the woman varying between coquettish and challenging in response to him. Though she was loathe to admit it, they looked very good together.

In perfect synch, they flowed with a unison that would seem uncanny to some, yet she knew how close they had become over recent months. She had watched, and her piercing eyes had missed nothing. With a trace of a smile gracing her well formed lips, she agilely leapt from her place near the window. Knowing there was nothing now left for her, she turned with ease and faced the darkness below, a gaping maw of a metaphor for her future.

She refused to cast any look behind her. She would not give them the satisfaction of any regret on her part. She raised her head and stepped from the balcony, closing her eyes against the onslaught of the coming impact…

Roger looked up from his seat near the piano, brows furrowed in concentration as he studied the storm outside. Dorothy paused in her recital, her gaze impassive as she studied the man before her. “Are you well, Roger?” she asked him.

Roger looked over at Dorothy with a mixture of amusement and affection. “Fine, Dorothy. Just wondering about the rain. If it doesn’t let up soon, someone could get hurt out there. That’s all.”


	3. Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More from the Big O fandom. Cross posted from my oooollllldd-ass ff.n account that I forgot even existed until I couldn't get into it... Trying to get myself psyched up to write again.

Carefully, she smoothed the wrinkles from the comforter. She moved in silence, her mind dutifully focused on the task before her. Everything needed to be perfect. Her eyes flickered across the room, taking in all of the elements of her work. Bedding, curtains, desk, bureau, lamp, chair, rug, flowers… all in place, all perfect, meticulously dusted or cleaned or placed just so…

He had been avoiding her for weeks. She supposed it was natural; after all, unpleasant truths were seldom accepted graciously. She knew that it would take a considerable amount of time to adjust to the cold truth she had expressed to him. Her pale lips curved upward slightly in a faint impression of a smile. She straightened suddenly, her eyes falling on the dresser top, where her few belongings were placed with care. She walked slowly to the dresser and stood before the large mirror.

Her gaze was critical as she watched herself. She took in everything, from the shape of her eyes, to the angle of her chin, to the fall of her hair… She broke gaze for a moment, reaching down to pick up her brush. She carefully pulled the brush through her hair, regarding the sight of her hair flowing in soft sheaves with detachment.

Just as carefully, she replaced the brush and frowned. Her hands reached out and settled on a pack of matches lying to the side. She struck a match, and used it to light the candles displayed on her bureau. Points of light in varying heights and brilliance sprung to life under her ministrations. She turned her eyes back to the mirror, and smoothed the chemise over her hips. Black – it had to be black, after all – silk, mere wisps of straps, cut low here and high there.

For a few more moments, she was lost in her reflection, thoughts and imaginings of seeing him in her doorway, crossing the room to her bed, closing the space between them with a kiss dominating her mind. A bitter sigh escaped her lips and she turned in anguish from her mirror. Her brow was knit and her jaw set as she went to her bed. Carefully, she pulled back the comforter and slipped into the sheets.

Falling into the softness of the bedding, she lowered her eyelids fractionally.

He would return. He would rage within himself, full of anguish and uncertainty, but eventually he would see reason, as he always did. Then he would come back. Back to her, though he had never been hers to begin with…

She would wait. She had time, she had all the time in the world to wait for him. On this night, she would stay alert until the last candle burned low, and she would wait for him.


End file.
